The sequel to Hamlet, written as a genuine tribute, and disguised as a parody. Gary Coleman revives Hamlet as a robot! Fortinbras clones Claudius! Polonius returns from the Vietnam war! Ophelia rises from the grave as a zombie! What else can you ask for?

(Author's Note: As FictionPress won't allow me to indent with tabs,
lines that originally were said by the character to continue the meter
of the previous speaker - a tactic common in plays written in iambic
pentameter or the like - have been prefaced with "(in meter)")

Act
I, Scene IV.
(Guest Room, Castle Fortinbras)

(Horatio
is showing the room to Gary)

HORATIO.
Here
is your bed. You can sleep here. Here is your dresser. It is for you
to put clothes.

GARY.
Watchoo
talkin' 'bout, Horatio?

HORATIO.
Amazing.
You still don't understand me even when I speak of the simplest
things.
Well, here is a safe. It is safe for keeping valu'bles.
Have you any?
(Gary is silent)
Any money or gold at all? I'm
sure you have some.

GARY.
(in meter) Watchoo talkin' 'bout?

HORATIO.
Very
well. But I shall leave you now – good bye. Dinner will be served
at half-past six. (exits)

NARRATOR.
Gary
Coleman had only been a guest in Castle Fortinbras for several hours,
and already, his suspicions had mounted as quickly as I had mounted
his mom-

GARY. (in meter) Watchoo
talkin' 'bout?!

NARRATOR.
In
the last three hours, his hosts had asked about his money no less
than five times. For someone as unsuccessful as Gary, money was
tight, and he guarded what little he had with his small, rat-like
hands and his beady black eyes. Years of alcohol abuse had damaged
his reasoning skills beyond repair, yet even Gary had a feeling that
something was still
rotten in the state of Denmark – in the figurative sense, as the
literal sense was obviously true, given that the majority of
Elsinore's royalty had died several years back. But anyway,
already, he was regretting taking his vacation here. He had spent the
last five years saving up annually-allotted vacation days so that he
could finally take a nice, two-week vacation. Being a mall security
guard was tough, and damn it, he needed a break.
Few people
understood Gary Coleman. That is to say, no-one does. Most don't
even want to. He's half the height of a normal person, and
frequently has outbursts of anger. Plus, he smells like old fish.
Because of this, he has few friends. Usually, the only time he'll
talk to anyone is when they ask him to say his catchphrase-

GARY. (in meter) Watchoo
talkin' 'bout?

NARRATOR. (in meter) And
God forbid they ask him for his autograph. After years of this
limited social contact, Gary snapped. The desire to talk to people –
to make them like him – overwhelmed the Coleman. Since then, the
only thing he says is-

GARY.
(in meter) Watchoo talkin' bout?

NARRATOR.
It
hasn't helped people like him. While before, they were
uncomfortable to look at him, and his smell offended them, now they
feel anger when they try to talk to him. Unfortunately, Gary had
jumped over the brink of no return, and couldn't stop himself from
uttering in his high, man-child voice that makes so many people
cringe, the now-loathéd words-

GARY. (in meter) Watchoo
talkin' 'bout?

NARRATOR.That
is Gary Coleman. Not just an underdeveloped, short-tempered,
forgotten child actor who found no success in his adult life,
ultimately resigning all attempts at a decent career, and settling to
monitor security cameras in the dark back room of a mall while slowly
succumbing to insanity, but also a tormented individual, a man who
tried too hard, and as usual, failed.

GARY.
(in meter) Watchoo talkin' 'bout?!

NARRATOR.
End
scene.

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